Brave
by trashysexsonnet
Summary: Nick Stokes knew his night off was over the instant his cell phone began to ring. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Brave: chapter one**

**Rating: **PG 13

**Notes, acknowledgements: **I wrote this about a week before Gum Drops aired, and after seeing that episode I almost nixed this, but ultimately decided that the world can never have enough Nick-angst. Thanks to Drakien for her awesome beta skills and weekday afternoon AIM chats, and Emma for getting me into this fandom in the first place. If it weren't for her, I'd get a hell of a lot more done. ;)

**Disclaimer: **Characters, etc belong to CBS, Anthony Zuiker and a bunch of other people who are not me. I do not make any money off of this.

Nick Stokes knew his night off was over the instant his cell phone began to ring. He'd been half-expecting the call all evening anyway. Saturday nights in Vegas were always busy, and Nick's plans for evening hadn't progressed past a six-pack and his television set.

"We're swamped tonight," Grissom said apologetically. "I'm out on a decomp, and we've got a fresh homicide, a double rape and a suspicious car accident. Half of swing shift is working overtime. I'm sorry, Nick."

"Don't sweat it." He balanced the phone on his shoulder and pulled on his shoes. "I'll can be there in twenty."

"Don't bother coming to the lab. It's a zoo there anyway. I need you to go straight to the crime scene. You've got a gunshot victim. Sara's meeting you there. Got a pen?"

"Yup, fire away." Grissom gave him the address and hastened back to his case. Nick allowed himself a small sigh as he gathered up his vest and kit. Something told him it was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Hey!" Sara Sidle held up the crime scene tape for Nick as he approached the scene, kit in hand. "Sucks about your night off."

"No big. I'm caught up on my sleep." He ducked beneath the tape and surveyed their surroundings. The shooting had occurred in a small, rundown apartment building on the east side of town, a familiar neighborhood for the CSIs.

"Man, I must have worked at least two dozen cases in this area by now," Nick grumbled as they followed an officer into the building.

"Yeah, no kidding," Sara said, eyeing the dirty hallway with distaste. "I processed a hit and run just down the street about two weeks ago."

They stepped into the apartment and found Brass talking to a short bald man in a wife-beater and sweats who was apparently the landlord. On the floor in the living room lay a youngish man, about 35. His chest was riddled with bullets. Nick let out a low whistle as he put down his kit as Brass sent the landlord out to talk to an officer.

"Damn." He clicked on his flashlight and lit up the man's face. "How many bullets does it take?"

"Neighbors reported hearing at least ten shots," Brass said, pocketing his pen. "Coroner should be here any minute. It's a busy night."

"So I've heard."

"Hey, isn't it your night off?"

"Yeah, I hadn't noticed," Nick said absently, moving the beam of his flashlight down the body.

Brass smirked mischievously at Sara. "My, someone's snappy. Must have pulled him from a hot date."

Nick rolled his eyes and smiled grimly. "Yeah, right. Can we please get moving on this? I don't want to be here all night."

"Any witnesses?" Sara piped up, snapping on a pair of gloves.

"Just his son, Jacob. Eight years old. He's outside with an officer. We're still waiting on child services."

"Is he okay?" Sara's expression had tightened up.

"He's not in very good shape, I'm afraid. Scared as hell, seemed pretty dirty, like he hadn't had a shower recently."

She shook her head in disgust. "Are they thinking neglect?"

"Maybe. We don't know much yet. He really didn't want to leave his dad. Had to drag him out screaming."

Nick wrinkled his nose as he studied the dingy living room. Filthy carpet, a stack of greasy pizza boxes, and empty beer bottles collected on every surface. _This is no place for a kid to grow up_.

"I'll do a preliminary sweep of the bedrooms," Sara said briskly, and followed the beam of her flashlight down the hallway. Brass stood in the front door with his arms folded over his chest.

"Do we have an ID on this guy?" Nick asked, stooping to a crouch next to the body.

"Yeah, Arnold Plath. 30 years old. He's a plumber, but apparently he had a side job as well. We found drugs."

"Dealer? Possible motive…" Nick noted absently. "What about the kid's mom?"

"She's not in the picture. The landlord said he'd been living alone with Jacob for a couple'a years now. I guess she took off at some point."

"No contact numbers? Forwarding address?"

Brass shrugged as his cell phone began to trill in his hand. "Not so far…Brass. Yeah. Okaay…Well, I need _someone_ to come get him. Yes, I'm aware it's a busy night." He rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. I'll have him down there as soon as possible." He snapped the phone shut. "All right, I need one of you to take the kid to Desert Palm for an evaluation. Wanna flip for it?"

As a rule, Nick liked kids. He was good with them. Lord knew he had more than enough nieces and nephews to play with and fuss over. Nevertheless, dealing with a traumatized six year old was just about the last thing he felt like doing. But he knew Sara would resent being taken away from the crime scene, and she was more than capable of processing alone for awhile.

"No, I'll do it," he said with a resigned sigh. Brass flashed him a toothy grin.

"You're a real trooper, Nicky."

"Yeah, right." He turned off his flashlight and began packing up his kit.

* * *

"I don't want to go with him!" Jacob Plath screamed, twisting violently in the grip of the police officers attempting to restrain him. "I want my _dad_! Where's my dad?"

Nick was beginning to regret having volunteered to transport the boy. Jacob Plath was small for his age and skinny as a stick, but he was putting up quite a fight. His soiled clothes hung piteously off his arms and legs.

"Hey, buddy." Nick knelt in front of the boy and tried to smile at him. "It's okay, no one's going to hurt you. My name's Nick, and we're just going to go for a ride-"

Jacob began sobbing. "Get my daddy! I want to talk to my daddy!"

"Jacob! Hey, it's okay!" Nick reached out to put his hand on Jacob's shoulder, but the little boy kicked out as hard as he could. His foot struck Nick's knee and sent him sprawling back onto the concrete. One of the cops grabbed Jacob's arm and yanked him back. Jacob let out a scared, sharp cry.

"Hey!" Nick snapped, scrambling to his feet. "Let go of him! He doesn't know what he's doing!"

The startled officer quickly released his grip on Jacob's arm. Ignoring the throbbing in his knee, Nick squatted in front of Jacob again.

"Hey, Jacob," he said quietly, looking straight into the boy's tear-streaked face. "You're having a pretty bad night, huh?" Jacob nodded slowly and rubbed his fists into his eyes. "Well, you're being very, very brave, I can tell. And I just need you to be brave for a little while longer, okay? Can you do that?" He nodded again and reluctantly allowed Nick to take his hand and lead him to the SUV.

Nick felt slightly better once Jacob was buckled safely into the backseat, away from all the cops and flashing lights. He glanced at the little boy in the rearview mirror as he steered the car onto the freeway.

"You okay back there? Are you cold?"

Jacob sniffled. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to the hospital for a few tests. It'll be easy, I promise."

"But I'm not sick!" he blurted, eyes wide. "Do I have to get a shot?"

"We're just going to get you cleaned up," Nick said evasively. "And maybe get you something to eat. Are you hungry?"

Jacob bobbed his head eagerly and Nick clenched his jaw. The kid was too thin for a boy his age. He wondered who, if anyone, had bothered to cook for him, or give him a snack when he came home from school, or play catch with him or help him with his homework or even wash his clothes. Nick watched him in the mirror as he waited for a stoplight to change.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a busy night at the hospital as well. Nick and Jacob were shown to the waiting room, where Nick failed to interest him in a _Highlights_ magazine or a game of cards. The little boy had made himself as small as possible, his knees tucked up tight against his chin. After awhile Nick noticed him eyeing the gun strapped to his hip.

"Are you a policeman?" Jacob asked warily.

"Sort of. I'm more like a scientist." _A copologist. _

"But why do you have a gun?"

"Well, sometimes I have to deal with people who have done something bad and might hurt me."

"Like what?"

Nick fumbled for an age appropriate response for Jacob's question. "Well…sometimes people get angry at me, because they know they're going to go to jail."

"Because they did something bad?"

"Yup."

"Have you ever shot anyone?"

"Nope. And I hope I never have to."

"Has anyone ever shot _you_?"

Nick smiled humorously and shook his head. "No." For a moment he found himself flashing back to the box, the green glow and the gun clenched in his hand, the only thing he could feel besides the unrelenting agony of thousands upon thousands of tiny mouths chewing him alive and no one was coming, _they weren't coming_ – he sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, relaxing the way he had practiced in therapy, and the moment was over.

"Is my dad here?" Jacob was looking up at him with pitifully hopeful eyes. "He got shot by a bad man. But the doctors could fix him, right?"

_Damn it! _Nick thought fiercely. _I shouldn't have to do this! How the hell am I supposed to answer a question like that?_ "Do you know what happened to your dad tonight, Jacob?" he said tightly. Jacob shook his head. He pulled his knees closer to his chest. _Oh god, I can't do this. _"Did you see him get hurt?" Jacob shook his head again and Nick took a deep breath. He couldn't do it. Not here, in the middle of the waiting room; it just wasn't right. _This isn't my job, damn it! Where the hell is child services?_

He forced a smile onto his face and said the first thing he could think of. "Hey, what do you say we find a vending machine and get you a snack?"

"Okay!" Jacob's face lit up with the promise of sugar and he grabbed Nick's hand as they wandered into the hallway. Nick looked down at his little fingers, gripping his like a life preserver, and all he could think was _this shouldn't have happened._

* * *

The nurse who finally called them in was a middle-aged woman with bright red hair. Her ID tag read Megan, and she spoke to Jacob in gentle, soothing tones as she carefully pulled off his clothes and got him into a hospital gown. He was even thinner without his shirt on. His ribs poked out worryingly, but there were no detectable bruises or scars on his chest or back.

"Say 'Ahh,'" Megan prompted, holding up a small flashlight.

"_Say Ahh."_

"…_what?"_

"_You know. Ahhhhh?"_

"Ahhhh!" Jacob echoed enthusiastically, opening his mouth as wide as it would go. Nick swallowed hard.

Megan chuckled. "You're doing a great job, Jacob."

"He sure is," Nick said with an encouraging smile. Jacob beamed up at him proudly.

"Do I get another candy?" he said eagerly.

"We'll see about that," Megan said, making a note on her clipboard. "Did you have dinner tonight?"

"Nope."

"What about lunch?"

"Uh-uh. Dad and his friends got pizza but there wasn't any left."

Nick and Megan exchanged a worried glance.

"Okay, buddy," she chirped, patting his knee. "We're going to get you some dinner soon. Can you sit tight in here while I talk to Nick outside for a minute?"

Jacob's hand shot out and latched onto Nick's belt. "Don't leave," he whimpered, his eyes threatening tears.

"It's okay. I'm not going anywhere." He folded his hand over Jacob's shoulder and shrugged apologetically at the nurse.

"Well, the good news is there doesn't appear to be any overt signs of abuse." she intoned quietly. "But I'm worried he might be malnourished. We need to run some blood work, and in the meantime he's going to need something to eat. Have you heard from Child Services?"

Nick shook his head grimly. "Nope. But I'm sticking around until they get here."

"Good. He seems to trust you."

Nick looked down at the little boy, who was surreptitiously tearing off a strip of the thin paper sheet covering the examination bed, and wondered what would happen when Child Services showed up.


	3. Chapter 3

They had to wait another hour before a doctor could be found. The man who stepped into the room had silvering hair and glasses that reminded Nick of Grissom, as did the weary lines around his eyes. He looked like the kind of person who had seen and known it all, and was as a result utterly exhausted, but for whatever reason still continued to fight.

"Hey there," he said kindly, kneeling in front of Jacob. "I'm Dr. DeTamble. Are you Jacob?"

"Yup." Jacob had gone shy. He ducked his chin against his chest and looked up at the doctor with red cheeks.

"You've probably been waiting here a long time, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm real tired."

"I bet you are." Dr. DeTamble smiled and looked up at Nick. "And who's this guy? Is he your bodyguard?"

"No, that's Nick. He's a scientist!"

The doctor chuckled. "Oh, really! And has Nick been behaving himself tonight?"

Jacob grinned. "Yeah! He's real nice."

Nick gave an embarrassed smile. The doctor winked at Jacob and straightened up to wash his hands in the sink.

"Okay, Jacob. You're almost done here. We just need to draw some blood and then we're going to get you some dinner."

"Will it hurt?"

"Nah." Nick interjected, shaking his head nonchalantly. "Just a pinch. I do it all the time."

"Really? Why?"

"Oh, lots of reasons."

"Like what?" The doctor gently rolled up Jacob's sleeve and swabbed his elbow.

"Well, sometimes I give my blood to the hospital so that sick people can use it."

"People who don't have enough blood?"

"Yup. And sometimes my boss asks for some of my blood so he can do experiments on it."

"Is he a scientist too?" The needle went in, but Jacob hardly flinched. He seemed much more interested in the idea of a mad scientist performing experiments with blood.

"Yup." Nick smiled fondly. "He's a very good scientist."

The doctor was applying a bright green band-aid to Jacob's elbow when a knock sounded on the door and an older blonde woman stepped into the room.

"I'm Jennifer Walters, from child services. You must be Nick? And Jacob?" She stooped in front of the examination table and held out her hand for Jacob. "Hey there. My name's Jennifer." Jacob nodded silently and kicked his feet against the exam table. "Are you hungry? I was thinking of getting a hamburger."

Jacob frowned. "Can Nick come too?"

Jennifer smiled patiently. "No, I don't think so, Jacob. Nick's got to go back to work."

"No!" Jacob jumped down from the examination table and flung his arms around Nick's waist, burying his face into his shirt. Nick felt something wrenching in his chest as he awkwardly patted the boy's trembling back. He looked helplessly at the caseworker, who stepped forward and gently pried Jacob away.

"Hey, buddy." Nick knelt in front of Jacob and brushed the tears off his cheek. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be fine! You're the bravest kid I've ever met."

"But I don't want you to go," Jacob whimpered.

"I know. But you've got to get some dinner and some sleep. I bet you're tired, huh?" Jacob shook his head fiercely. "Jennifer is a very nice lady. She's going to take good care of you."

"But I like _you!"_

Jennifer placed a firm hand on Jacob's shoulder. "Okay, it's time to go. Say goodbye to Nick."

"No!" He began sobbing again in earnest. The caseworker pressed her lips together and shook her head at Nick, and he took that as his cue to leave. Jacob's piteous sobs followed him down the hall, tugging at him, turning his stomach. By the time he managed to get outside phantom tears had built up behind his eyes. His cell phone rang, startling him in the dark hush of the nearly empty lot.

"Stokes," he snapped, his voice thick.

"Hey, it's Sara…you okay?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm all right, thanks."

"I'm done at the scene. Want to get something to eat?"

Damn, he needed coffee. "Yeah, okay. Where?"

"Diner?"

"Sure. See you in 10."

* * *

Nick met Sara in front of the diner and followed her silently inside. They took a booth in the back, away from the crowd that showed up even at one o'clock in the morning. Only in Vegas. Sara avoided asking about his night until they had both downed about three cups of coffee.

"So you had a rough time with the kid?" She smiled sympathetically over her mug.

"Yeah." Nick stared blankly at the table. He couldn't get Jacob's face out of his mind, his small hands reaching for him, his frightened pleas. "It just…ripped me up, you know? That poor kid." He shook his head and took a swallow of coffee. "I just can't stop thinking, what's going to happen to him? Where's he going to end up? I mean, he's got no one now. Who's going to look out for him? Poor kid probably never…" Nick's voice cracked. "He was so _upset_, when I had to leave him. I've never seen a kid freak out like that before. And he'd never even seen me before in his life."

"It doesn't matter," Sara said quietly, fiddling with a sugar packet. "I remember when I - when we were working that quadruple murder out in the suburbs a few years back, the girl who had her boyfriend kill her family?"

Nick nodded mutely. It was one of those cases that he knew he would never forget.

"I had to take the little girl to the hospital. Brenda. At first, she wouldn't even talk to me. It was scary. I had no idea what to do...And then suddenly, something changed. I don't know what it was. She just wouldn't let go of my hand." Sara stared into the depths of her coffee, and for a moment she seemed to be elsewhere, but the waitress arrived with their food before the conversation could go any further. Sara filled him in on the details of the crime scene as they ate. The evidence was scant, and it didn't look promising. Nick couldn't help thinking that it didn't really matter if they caught the guy. It wouldn't really change anything.

Sara sighed. "Crappy night, huh?"

"Yeah." Nick stared out the window, into the lurid Vegas night. "I hate Saturdays."


End file.
